Liars And Angels
by sherlollymouse
Summary: Miz-Joely on tumblr received an anonymous question and I was inspired Is there a story where Mycroft is seriously hurt and/or killed protecting Sherlock; Molly and Anthea? (Sherlolly and Mythea if it has relationships) - this is the result.
1. Chapter 1

As he came to to the sound of blips and bleeps associated with hospital equipment, he knew the blurry figure was his brother before his vision cleared.

"Hello, brother, dear." Mycrofts voice was a bit dry and hoarse, he choked a bit on the words.

"Here." The younger Holmes was quick to offer him some water, which he took gratefully and drank greedily. "I thought you didn't have an aptitude for leg work."

"I don't." His voice was back, now, fully, but he gestured for Sherlock to fill the cup again. It was easy for him to deduce that his brother was a bit uncertain of how to proceed. He felt grateful and felt in his debt, but their relationship didn't leave a lot of room for sentiment. There was a slight, eager and nervous hop in Sherlock's step he was attempting to quell as he swallowed hard handing of the water.

"Thank you." Sherlock offered, quietly and in an uncharacteristicly small voice. Mycroft only nodded as he took a small drink before abandoning the glass on the table beside him.

"It's… what I do, Sherlock." He exhaled.

"Never like this."

"No… no, never like this… but, its par for the course."

Sherlocks lip twitched a bit before he spoke.

"Anthea is outside, would you like me to send her in?"

"Is she alone?"

"No, she's with Molly Hooper." Mycroft raised an eyebrow.

"Not John Watson?" He'd immediately deduced that his brother had called in a friend for silent,moral support, but had expected it to be his doctor friend, not the pathologist. He missed things even less than Sherlock, but this, paired with their history, spoke volumes to Mycroft.

"John Watson has a baby at home."

"And a wife —"

"Who shouldn't be expected to care for her child alone, Mycroft." Sherlock quickly interrupted.

"Of course not."

"I'll go get Anthea for you." Before Mycroft to say another word, the door clicked shut. With a sigh, he laid himself against the hospital bed pillows, sighed, and gave the ceiling a small smile.


	2. Chapter 2

Molly Hooper immediately recognized Anthea as she strode into the hospital waiting area and called to her. Upon buying her attention, she waved her over.

"Molly." Anthea smiled, warmly, as she gave the pathologist a small hug.

"Mycrofts outlook looks well, considering." She told her, before breaking the hug and sitting down with her. "He just got out of surgery a bit ago. Should be alright." Molly caught Antheas heavy exhaled as the agent closed her eyes. "So…uh, you're his emergency contact."

"Yes," She nodded and smiled, immediately turning her attention to her phone.

"Bit odd… don't you think?" Molly was obviously prying, but, try as she might, poor Anthea had already given herself a bit away. "I mean, its usually family members… partners….friends."

"We work very close, we're friendly." Anthea defended herself, but didn't look up from her phone very long.

"Of course… I suppose that makes sense, I mean—"

"And what are you doing here?" Anthea flipped the conversation.

"Sherlock texted. Asked me to come down and told me what happened."

"Wheres John?"

"Home."

"Has Sherlock even rang him?"

"Don't think so,"

"Interesting…"

"-But, he prefers to text anyway." Molly attempted to keep her footing. She wasn't completely certain what Anthea was insinuating, but she wanted to avoid the conversation.

"You are the pathologist I remember? The one that helped Sherlock fake his death?" There was a hitch in Molly's breath before she answered.

"Yes."

"What makes you so important, Molly?"

"I —uh—"

"I mean, you help him with his job, you've gone out on cases with him…"

"Umm…"

"He asked you to help save his life."

"Well…"

"You and you alone." The pause was filled with Molly's long inhale.

"I don't know." She exhaled the words, carefully.

"Did he give you a reason?"

"Yes."

"What did he say?"

"That I'm the one that matters the most." Anthea considered this a minute, her gaze steady and a bit formidable; reading Molly, she knew. But, the silence was broken by a familiar, and sometimes dreaded, voice.

"Mycroft has asked for you, Anthea." Sherlock bought both the girls attention.

"Thank you." The brunette smiled and left with the click of her dangerous stilettos echoing down the empty hall.

Molly hadn't meant to, but she realized she was still staring at Sherlock and, most confusing, he was staring right back.

"Coffee?" He asked and she responded with a nod.

"2 creams and a sugar, please." Without looking up, she grabbed a paper off a nearby table and began reading, holding her breath until she heard the sound of his Belstaff fluttering away.


	3. Chapter 3

Anthea never much liked 'd lost an older cousin she was close to when they were both really young. He was in his mid teens and she was barely pubescent. But, nonetheless, she smiled as her boss as she pressed the door closed behind her.

"How are you?" She asked, with as little emotion as she could muster. Mycroft wouldn't respond to that anyway.

"Been better." He groaned, sitting up in the bed.

"Good." The silence wasn't as comforting as it usually was between them. They didn't use a lot of words to communicate and certainly didn't talk about sentiment, so, when he let out another groan, she knew he had deduced her.

"I'm fine." Mycroft's mouth was tight as he spoke.

"Good." More silence and another sigh from him.

"You really need to stop with this nonsense, Anthea. You know it only gets in the way with our work."

"Of course, sir." Following his cue, she whipped out her phone and sat next to him. "I've already cleared everything off—"

"Why on earth would you do that?"

"Because you're laid up in hospital and you won't be any use at work sick. It's better to just take the time than have the chance of needing more time off again later." Her look was stern, she was challenging him to argue. After some thought, he relented.

"Fine." Casually, he waved his hand and took another drink of water.

"Now, what exactly have the doctors said?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing you want to share." She finished his statement.

"Don't worry about it, lets just decide what I can do from here." He reached over and adjusted his morphine drip.

"If thats what you want—"

"Yes." His teeth were gritted, he was serious. No more talk of the bullet he took and no discussion of any damage it might have caused.

"Ok, then." She retrieved a satchel that was beside his bed. He must have called for it somehow. Anthea could only assume Sherlock had retrieved it on his behalf. Calmly, she flipped through its contents and began rattling off the data and inquiring what actions should be taken for what. It was hard for her to ignore when he made a strained face, but she pressed on, as instructed.

"Anthea…"

"Now, do you want to…"

"Anthea…" His voice was strained, she stopped and looked up.

"Mycroft?"

"Doctor,now." He barely got out before the machines started making urgent noises and his face twisted in pain.


End file.
